Falling Under Page 3

  Finally he finished and his head came up. His face was only two inches away. This close I saw the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth. What had caused them? Pain? Sorrow? It tugged at me.

  Tentatively I reached up, his eyes flared wide, bursting with questions. I touched the tip of my finger to the left corner of his lips, “you should smile more.”

  He shifted his head so that his lips grazed deeply against my fingertips, the pressure sent succulent warmth sliding along the nerve endings in my palm, “there’s not much to smile about sometimes,” he admitted quietly.

  “Why?” I was prying but I needed answers.

  Abruptly he pulled back from me, “don’t pull away,” I cried.

  His eyes narrowed, “you know what will happen if I stay this close to you?” he came back closer than we’d been before, centimeters separated us. His eyes blazed into mine daring me to deny the heat that pulsed instantly between us.

  I gulped, “Yes,” I confessed embracing what I felt whenever I was around him. It started to become harder to breathe, “I’m pretty sure I know what you want and,” I added beneath my breath, “what I want too.”

  But he’d pulled back and I wasn’t sure he heard me. He groaned, a tortured sound, “you don’t have a clue as to what I want.”

  And then he sent me a curve ball. He dove for me. His face came so fast. I barely caught snatches of the starvation and bitterness that twisted in his eyes. His mouth seized mine, hot, hard and punishing.

  He ripped at my seat belt, virtually tearing the buckle open. He plucked me out, snatched me into his arms. I threw my arms about his rigid shoulders. The blanket on my legs tumbled to the grass.

  I ripped my mouth away from the furnace of his, “Jake-”

  He sawed off my words. His lips were hot, silky and utterly addicting. Just one taste and I was caught.

  My throat tightened and I went limp as shudders of ecstasy raged through me.

  He groaned and crowded closer, his tongue stabbed into my mouth, tipping my neck back. Locked in his kiss, my lips began to ache, then sting.

  I whimpered, shoved against his chest and pushed him away.

  His hold on my lips softened, offering me just enough release, I tore my lips away from his.

  I gasped, “Jake?” my lips burned and my eyes were wide with confusion.

  He tensed and reared back, his eyes were cut crystals, hard and without mercy.

  “Oh God, no,” there was shock on his face, “Lola, I’m so sorry,” his voice throbbed.

  I gulped, “tell me what’s wrong Jake?”

  He didn’t answer. He stepped back. And cold air rushed up my arm, reminding me of the early morning and the empty county road around us.

  He turned away from me, his shoulders were stiff, “Do you want me to take you back?” He sounded resigned as if he thought I couldn’t possibly want to stay with him after that kiss.

  I ached to go to him but the stiffness of his body told me that he needed his space. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn’t ready to share.

  I picked up the discarded blanket and went back into the jeep, “I don’t want to go back Jake. I know I’m safe with you.”

  His head whipped around. Surprise and something that looked a lot like gratitude shone in his sad eyes, then he ducked his head in embarrassment. He slipped back into the wrangler, turned to me, “hold on, we’re already late.”

  Chapter six

  Thirty minutes later the building site loomed. It sat square and fat at the top of a short, green hill. A cluster of wild trees sprang up around it. A silver river sluiced through the trees that hugged its feet.

  It was the perfect place to build a home. My eyes caught the green and blue signs proclaiming it a Habitat for Humanity home.

  I grinned with delight.

  “It’s awesome isn’t it?” Jake pulled to a stop in the dirt parking lot around the half-built house with an unfinished two-car garage. Three men were on the roof carefully laying out black shingles.

  I nodded eagerly, “who will get this house?”

  He went to the back of the wrangler and lifted out a black tool bag, “Melendez family. Dad’s got cancer. Mom works three jobs.”

  He grinned at me, “Come on, I’m gonna put you to work.”

  A short man with a head of white hair, a tool belt hitched precariously around his ample waist and a tattered clipboard came up to us, “Mornin’ Heathcliff,” he gave me an encouraging smile, “brought extra help today?”

  “Hi Andy, this is Lola, she’ll be helping out wherever she’s wanted.”

  Andy came over to me, pulled a paint brush from the tool belt at his waist, “can you paint?”

  “Yeah,” I took the offered brush.

  He passed me the clipboard, “read it and sign.” Then he led me to the back of the house. He stopped beside a ladder that went to the roof.

  He gave me a serious once-over, “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

  I wrinkled my nose, “I don’t think so.”

  He nodded, “that’s good enough for me.”

  He went into the house and came out with a can of primer, his eyes twinkled mischievously, “let’s see what you can do,” he gave it to me and left.

  My eyes traveled slowly up the grey expanse of vinyl siding that covered the back of the house. I shrugged, popped the can of primer open with the handle of the brush and began to paint.

  Three hours later my arms were trembling. I fought to raise my hand one last time to finish the strip of siding that stood right above my head. But my arm wouldn’t go any higher than my shoulder. I winced. Then gave up and dropped it. I leaned forward and sucked in some hot, moist air.

  I craned my neck to get a look at the amount of siding left. The unfinished half towered several feet above my head. I groaned in dismay.

  “I’ve told you not to make those sounds.”

  I was not in the mood. I threw him a nasty scowl, “screw you Jake, you’re not the one whose arm is dead!”

  His emerald eyes glittered with actual sympathy, “ouch, that does hurt,” he held out an icy cold water bottle, “want a drink?”

  I lunged towards him and snatched it out of his hands. I gulped it down without pausing. I made sounds that would shame a pig but he simply stood and watched me drink, his face expressionless.

  Done I handed the empty bottle back to him.

  He took it, “listen the guys are going down to the river for an afternoon swim, if you want me to take you home I can do that?”

  “Why?” I asked, tantalized by the idea of a good soak.

  His frowned at me, “you’re the only woman here Lola.”

  “Really?” I retorted, “because I didn’t notice.”

  I placed my paint brush into the can of primer at my feet.

  He grimaced, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Duly noted,” I smirked at him.

  He narrowed his eyes and headed around the side of the house. I followed.

  Four men, three Hispanic, one white were already packed into the back of a beat-up Ram truck. They eyed me with various levels of interest.

  “Hey fellas,” I grinned as I stepped up into the truck.

  They smiled and resumed their bickering about some local soccer game from the previous night.

  Jake squeezed into the back of the truck beside me. A hush fell on the guys, they eyed Jake and me surreptitiously. Jake didn’t seem to care, I blushed and stared off towards the river as the truck moved downhill.

  The ride down took less than five minutes. I tumbled out of the truck, the others followed quickly behind me.

  Clothes started to fly. Socks, jeans and shirts lay scattered on a large tree trunk lying on the shore.

  Beside me Jake didn’t undress, “afraid?” I teased in an attempt to hide my own unease.

  “Yeah,” he admitted his hooded eyes gave nothing away, he watched the guys race each other into the cool water, then he looked back at me, “I’m afraid that s
omeone else will see how stunning you are and I won’t have a shot.”

  While I absorbed this jarring revelation, he pulled his shirt over his head and shed his jeans. He wasn’t wearing boxers like most of the men.

  His tighty-whities should’ve looked childish and completely out of date but oh boy.

  They stretched like a glove over the hard jut of his sculpted ass filling them out to perfection. Long powerful bronze legs stood planted like tree trunks. I studiously avoided the epicenter of all this maleness.

  Self-consciously I tugged my clothes off down to a white bra and pair of boxer briefs that clung to my hips.

  I felt his eyes on me, taking me in. I blushed. It was my turn to squirm. Before he could offer up any comment, I whipped about, my legs pumping as I rushed into the sparkling water.

  The cold hit me like a loaded gun, my mouth flew open, a gasp escaped. I cringed back, then hooted with laughter as something flew over my head.

  I ducked as Jake plunged past me, he hit the river like a boulder, a stream of water splashed into my face.

  Wild, abandoned laughter along with streams of water poured from my mouth as he disappeared under the black surface. I turned onto my back, the sun greeted my face, warming it up. I grinned as the river lured me downstream. My lids drifted shut.

  A rough shove sent me scrambling for purchase, I pushed upright, but my toes couldn’t find the silty ground. Irritated I saw I was in the belly of the river. Large swaths of white water rushed past me.

  I scrubbed at the water in my eyes and winced at the sting. Several yards down from me swam my perpetrator, a football clutched in his hand. A white shadow trailed swiftly behind him.

  Instant recognition seized me.

  I choked and stared at my chest.

  My breasts, small, pebbled handfuls pouted clearly, innocently up at me. Before my horrified gaze my nipples curled up into tight little rosebuds.

  I dropped down like a stone only to yelp as another wave came rushing towards my face.

  It hit, making me gasp and fight for air. And it brought Jake.

  He popped up right in front of me, his eyes tense with concern, “Lola …. you alright?”

  “No!” I waved frantically, “just stay back.”

  He ignored me, shoved his face into mine, “not till you explain.”

  Chapter seven

  “I won’t,” I fired back defensively.

  He screwed up his face, “why are you trying to drown yourself?”

  “Take a wild guess,” I bit out.

  He grinned, a come hither gleam sparked in his moist green eyes, “I don’t do wild anymore. But I sure do miss it.”

  “Shit, you’re incredible!” I hissed.

  He winked, then dropped his voice, “and you’re so fucking hot when you’re pissed,” his eyes began to simmer heat, “it kills me that I can’t suck on your tongue right now.” His eyes fell lower and he went silent.

  I exploded, “Can you stop looking at me like that!”

  His eyes flicked back to mine and my whole body shivering with cold rage one moment started to thaw. His high cheekbones were drawn, the skin tight, his nostrils flared wide as he literally drank in the sight of my nipples dipped beneath the skin of water.

  His eyes came back up, so slow I had to wait several seconds for him to see me again. I expected something coarse, funny or downright primitive to leap off his tongue.

  I wasn’t prepared for something pretty, “you’re so beautiful. I wish I could tell you what I think but I can’t find the right words.”

  He drew closer, the bulk of his chest a whisper away from my nipples, “I’d give anything to be able to touch you right now.”

  I could no longer feel anything but the pull of him drawing closer. Even the hairs on head were tensing with anticipation of his touch. I stroked his face with my eyes, longing surging inside me, “touch me, Jake.”

  I bit my lip brutally as soon as the words left my mouth. I closed my eyes, leaned back and offered myself to him.

  “No,” he groaned, his voice husky with gathering arousal, “don’t close your eyes. I want to see my touch on your face, your lips, in your eyes.”

  I blinked back heavy lids, peered at him through my lashes. His thumb, cooled and rough from the water, flicked like a burning spark of coal over my nipple. My back arched and I swallowed a guttural cry of pleasure.

  He pressed closer to me, I could feel him under the water, the heat of his body, the warmth of the blood roving about in his veins. I wanted to reach out and grip him, haul myself up into his arms. But I knew if I moved I wouldn’t be able to stop and then there’d really be a show. He swiped his hard fingers back and forth over the tingling peaks of my nipples, a trailing, torturous movement that had me keening inside my throat. I arched painfully, hungry and uncaring about how much I had to offer to get him to give me more.

  I was fast becoming addicted to him.

  Above me his breathing sped up, harsh and deep, every inhalation brushed his chest up against mine firing off frissons of spiraling sensations down to my palms.

  With nothing to do but surrender, I turned to begging, “Jake. Pleeeasse.”

  He groaned, “Shush, baby, I … Oh damn. I can’t help you here.”

  Frustration brought out my claws, “well do something!” I cried.

  He capitulated. One moment it was his fingers, the next the full extent of his hard, wide palms cupped around my breasts. Crushing them, squeezing them. I squealed, pushed forward into his bearish hands. He ground my nipples into the heart of his palms. I clutched at his broad shoulders, opened my eyes and met the spreading green fire of his gaze.

  We hung suspended. Him asking, me saying an empathic YES. But the sound of the water and chuckles began to seep back in. Sanity crashed back into our world.

  The mortifying reality that five pairs of eyes would’ve seen us. Had been watching the entire time doused the heat in my belly. He released me with a gentle push.

  He looked downriver as he spoke, “I’ll go downriver and see if I can find your top.”

  I watched him cut through the water, heading for the guys who were no longer laughing and goofing around.

  I stiffened with embarrassment and lifted my chin. I didn’t give a damn what they thought. There was no way in hell I’d trade what just happened for anyone’s good opinion.

  I saw Jake approach one of the guys and take something from him.

  Jake returned. He held out the bra, “the hook’s broken.”

  I reached forward, “I can handle it.”

  “No,” his gaze was firm, gentle, “I can help.”

  With silent eyes on us, Jake tied the torn edges of my bra behind my back. Finished, his fingers lingered, traced the delicate line of my spine down to the graceful dip which led to my butt.

  He stopped here. I shivered, and had no choice but to turn to him, my eyes shamelessly begging for more.

  Several heads bobbed into view around us, Jake’s eyes burning with hunger, gave me one last starving look, then he turned to the guys, cleared his throat, “Come on, time to head back.”

  The wrangler pulled to a shaky stop in front of Dez’s gate at sundown.

  Jake turned off the engine. He kept his face straight ahead, as if he was afraid of scaring me with what was in his eyes, “When can I see you again?” he voice was a quiet rustle in the calmness of the spring night.

  That didn’t fool me. Underneath his request was a throbbing urgency that had stayed with me since the river. I felt myself leaning towards him, “Maybe tomorrow,” I whispered breathless.

  A light came on in a window of Dez’s house, I swallowed and it felt painful to say it out loud but our time together, for today, was up. “I need to go now.”

  His head flicked towards mine, his eyes black holes in his closed face, “Lola I … I want to tell you something …”

  A shadow crept up from the corner of my eyes.

  Dez?

  He came to me, ignored Jake, �
��I’m sorry Lols. He came over-”

  “Get the fuck outta that vehicle,” the words were quiet and menacing. My dad’s teeth were pulled back from his lips and shone like bone daggers in his dark face.

  I flinched, Jake growled beside me, his breath a rough rasp.

  I shook my head, my throat clogged, “no dad,” tears tumbled down my burning cheeks, “I can’t let you control my life.”

  My dad’s eyes on me widened, then pity took over his harsh features, “Girl how long do you think this will last?”

  I tried not to look at Jake who remained stoic, “I don’t know but it’s time I strike out on my own.”

  Dad laughed, a grating, humorless bark, his eyes trailed scornfully to Jake’s, “you want to shack up with him? Think he’ll be good for you?”

  I paled and the roar of my heart drowned out everything else, “I’ve made my choice.”

  My dad moved closer to the jeep, his hand went for mine, his eyes twisted with sorrow, “Lola, you’d leave me for a drunkin murderer?”

  Those words robbed me of speech. Under my dad’s hard hands, my own grew clammy and limp.

  I didn’t know where to look but there was only one place.

  Our eyes met. Jake’s had become cold, distant. It was the eyes of a stranger, someone who didn’t care if you existed, not the man who I’d allowed to touch me so intimately.

  “What?” I croaked, still unable to process what was happening.

  Jake’s hands on the wheel tightened so hard I heard the muffled protest of the old leather beneath his grip.

  Jake bared his teeth at me in a grizzly smile, his eyes were slits, “Kinda crazy that you never heard about the doctor’s son,” he snarled bitterly.

  I opened my mouth to argue, to say something that would take some of the tortured pain from his eyes. And then snapshots began to go off in my head.

  Four years before, I’d been obsessed with my own unhappiness and not paid attention to much around me. But I remember that weeks afterwards I’d heard angry mutterings about a young family that had been passing through on their way to their new home. A Habitat for Humanity home they’d helped build, when a drunk driver had swerved into oncoming traffic …